The Laws of Friendship
by KittyKatZorse
Summary: Sherlock/OC story. Sherlock meets Rebecca Francis, a lawyer and saves her life...can she return the favour? Prequel to 'The Laws of Familiarity'.Set in 2006 before JW arrives on the scene. Humour/Friendship with hints of Romance and possible drug use.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey guys. Welcome to my new Sherlock/Rebecca fanfic.**_

_**For those of you that have not already read my first two fics this one is the prequel to The Laws of Familiarity and tells the story of how Sherlock Holmes and Rebecca Francis first met. **_

_**If you have not read my other fics don't worry as it is fine to start from this as no other info is really required.**_

_**All you really have to know is that this fic is set in 2006 and that Sherlock has not yet met John.**_

_**Oh and for those who have read my previous fics then they might notice that this chapter has already featured as a flashback.**_

_**Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this story. Leave me a review if you do.**_

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><p>Rebecca was late.<p>

Her first new client since starting her job at Emmett & Spinkley Lawyers Co. and she was running fifteen minutes late.

First she had got caught in the rain, and then there had been severe delays on the tube.

Now she ran through Greater London in the pouring rain, attempting to juggle her umbrella, her briefcase and an overpriced cup of coffee.

Oh how she hated London...

Her parents had emigrated to Australia at the beginning of the year, leaving Rebecca alone with nothing but her little puppy Toby and a worrying amount of student debt. Having done both a degree in politics then later in law she had been snapped up by Emmett & Spinkley as soon as they'd interviewed her...

But on a day like today she wondered why she'd ever chosen to stay here in London at all.

She was 24, she had no friends, no family close by...and if she lost that client she doubted she would even have a job either.

Running across the rainy street towards her meeting place, Rebecca groaned as she stepped into a deep puddle and water flooded over her new suede high-heels.

There was no way this day could get any worse...

"Just great," she muttered staring down at her ruined shoes.

The young lawyer made to turn and walk into the high office building before her, but as she did so she bumped into a tall, dark-haired figure, sending the coffee that she was holding flying into the air.

Rebecca watched in a horrified slow motion as the lid from the cup flew off and the dark brown liquid came teeming down all over her crisp white blouse.

"You idiot!" she cried angrily staring up at the man before her, whose brow suddenly furrowed.

He was no more than a couple of years older than Rebecca herself with a mop of short dark hair and a long tailored coat.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. She knew that she was more in the wrong than he was, but he could at least give her an apology.

But there came no reply from the dark-haired man's lips.

Rebecca huffed staring down at her blouse and shoes sadly. They were both ruined. Her client would never agree to see her looking like this.

It was just so... unprofessional.

"Out of my way," she said, brushing past the man who had bumped her and flouncing into the building through the revolving doors.

A moment later she was standing at the reception desk her head held high, but the coffee stain only soaking deeper and deeper into her blouse.

"Hello," said a blonde receptionist, eyeing Rebecca's ruined garment with distaste. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm here to see...um..." the young lawyer began rifling through her briefcase for the sheet of paper with her client's name written upon it.

Finally pulling the document from her case she was horrified to find that some of the coffee had soaked through into her briefcase and half of the name was now obscured by a large brown smudge.

She looked up uneasily at the pouting receptionist, but as she did so a shadow appeared over her shoulder and Rebecca turned, to see the dark-haired man from outside, standing right behind her.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked rudely, giving him a sharp frown.

The man stared at Rebecca blankly. "You dropped these," he muttered holding up a set of keys with a silver dog keychain attached to it.

Rebecca' eyes widened and she snatched the keys from the man's' grasp.

Well at least the idiot had done one good thing today.

Losing those keys could have made this day the worst of her life.

"Thanks," she muttered brusquely, turning back to the desk.

But the man remained close behind her.

Rebecca turned to face him again.

"Was there anything else?" she said raising her eyebrows.

"No, though I don't believe it is a crime to stand in line," he said in a low voice, giving Rebecca a forced and very much fake smile.

Rebecca frowned and meant to make a retort about personal space, but before she could do so there was a loud 'ahem' from behind the desk.

Rebecca turned back around, forcing her own smile. "Yes," she said glancing down at the paper in her hands. "I'm here to see a Mr Mycroft Ho- Holt?"

Rebecca saw the receptionist roll her eyes before turning to the computer.

Rebecca bit her lip, the presence of the man close behind her was so distracting.

"He left ten minutes ago," said the receptionist suddenly turning back to face Rebecca. "You were late."

Rebecca froze a little shell-shocked.

She had lost her first client. She was sure to be fired for this...

"Is there a chance-" started Rebecca but the receptionist cut across her brusquely.

"I'm afraid he's a very busy man and has no patience for time-wasters," said the snooty blonde.

Rebecca let out a slow nod and a quiet sigh.

She turned, pushing past the dark-haired man, who the receptionist immediately addressed.

"Ah Mr Holmes, I'm afraid he's in a meeting," she said in a much more cheery and alluring voice.

Rebecca made to turn away, walk back out into the rain in her sopping wet shoes and stained clothes, but a figure suddenly stepped in front of her.

"Leave me alone," said Rebecca staring up at the man the receptionist had called Holmes, who gazed back at her with such intensity.

He didn't speak but simply remained in Rebecca's way, blocking her exit.

"What's your problem?" she said bluntly, shoving past him, her shoulder meeting solidly with his arm.

When she was only a couple of feet away the man suddenly spoke, his voice deep and engaging.

"I need a lawyer," he said purposefully as Rebecca stopped in her tracks.

She swung slowly around to face him.

"H-How did you know I was a lawyer?" she said with a frown, staring up at this strange man.

"I have cases, they won't be too difficult for you to write up I'm sure. I often work alongside the police so as long as you follow the standard format then I don't that there should be a problem," he muttered, rifling through his pockets.

Rebecca gaped as the tall man handed her his card. "Sherlock Holmes," he said confidently.

Rebecca studied the small card with interest.

"Consulting detective?" she said raising an eyebrow.

The man named Sherlock suddenly looked at her with a frown. "Problem?" he said quickly, brushing past her. "Give me a call and we can set up a further meeting. Actually make it a text."

Rebecca swung around and made to go after him.

"Wait," she cried, tottering behind him as he made his way to the doors. "How did you know that I was a lawyer?"

Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks swinging around to face her. At this Rebecca stepped back nervously.

He was a looming spectre and his eyes bored into hers.

"Oh I know a lot more than that Miss Francis," he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting, before he turned on his heel once again and made his wait through the revolving doors.

Rebecca gaped. How had he known...?

"Wait up!" shouted Rebecca, following him hurriedly out of the doors and back onto the rainy street, forgetting all about the closed umbrella in her hand.

She ran towards the slowly retreating Sherlock, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face her.

"Who are you? How did you know my name?" she asked her eyes wide, searching consulting detective's blank face.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, before finally answering. "The notepaper you'd written your client's name on...it was headed Rebecca Francis. Probably a gift when you began your work for Emmett & Spinkley, as was the briefcase," he said pointing down toward the briefcase Rebecca held. Emmett & Spinkley's gold emblem stamped upon it.

"Its new, so you've haven't worked there long. Perhaps a month," continued Sherlock. "The urgency in your voice when you found out that your client had left means that he was important to you. Probably you're first. So you were nervous...late."

He paused, his eyes roving over Rebecca's appearance. "You're twenty-four, young but very well educated. Oxford most likely. Your parents are well off, but you're in debt. You won't go to them for money. So you're stubborn and proud," he muttered, his eyes shining.

Rebecca stepped back a little shell-shocked. Who was this man?

"What the hell are you some kind of psychic?" Rebecca demanded almost stomping her foot. Maybe she was stubborn after all...

Sherlock cocked his head at her. "No. I'm not. Consulting detective," he said in a low voice. "Besides not only are you stubborn but you're too intelligent to believe in things like that. Logic is much more your forte Miss Francis and it doesn't take any sort of deduction to figure that out."

Rebecca stared at this man, frozen to the pavement as his icy eyes bored into hers. She had forgotten about the rain and the client and ...well, everything. Now it was just her and Sherlock, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"And finally you're intrigued; I can see it in your eyes. That's why you ran after me. You're disillusioned with your own life. You want something more...Something better...You're bored."

She stared at him, unable to believe her ears.

Who the hell was this guy? This Sherlock Holmes? And how the hell had he deduced all that?

Rebecca had no idea. All she knew was that she didn't like it.

His eyes upon hers made her shiver.

How can a person know that much after just one meeting?

He knew exactly what she was thinking...feeling...she was bored. He had been right about that.

Her face formed into a dark scowl.

She didn't like this man. Or what he was capable of deducting.

"Piss off," she said suddenly, storming past him, bumping his shoulder as she went.

She was angry. This man had messed up her day.

Ruined everything!

Rebecca walked across the busy street as rain fell all around her, it was only when she was half way across the road that she noticed a cab speeding towards her, its tires screeching along the slippery concrete.

She stopped.

Still.

Trapped.

She hadn't noticed in all her anger and now she was frozen to the spot with no escape.

Like a rabbit in the headlights...

Her eyes widened as the car tried to brake, but it was only mere feet away from her...

It would never stop in time...

Suddenly Rebecca felt a strong arm grip her tightly around her waist and drag her out of the way as the cab sped past, its horn beeping loudly.

Rebecca stumbled onto the wet pavement, falling on her hands and knees and panting heavily as her rescuer tumbled to the ground next to her.

It was a few moments before Rebecca re-gained her composure and gazed up at the man who had saved her.

"You?" she said looking up into Sherlock's icy blue eyes as he caught his breath beside her, slowly getting to his feet.

The man said nothing but sniffed and brushed himself down before offering Rebecca a hand.

Rebecca gazed up in awe before taking the man's hand and allowing him to pull her up off the rain-strewn pavement.

She was trembling badly as she clambered to her feet.

She had almost been killed.

She tried to mumble a thank you but no words seemed to come out of her mouth.

No fitting words at least, to thank this man for what he had done.

The road was filled with busy passersby, barely taking any notice of the two death-defying figures huddled near to the pavement edge, both sopping wet and shell-shocked.

"Come on," said Sherlock after a few moments, glancing this way and that. "I'm starving."

Rebecca frowned staring at this impossibly mad man and shaking her head in disbelief as he began to walk away.

A few feet away he suddenly looked over his shoulder. "You coming or not?" he commanded.

Rebecca bit her lip.

She knew she'd probably regret this...

A few seconds later Rebecca was running along after him, her high-heels clattering on the rain sodden pavement.

Just at that very moment, across the street, Mycroft Holmes had clambered out of his town-car.

His eyes suddenly latched onto the two retreating figures.

"Is that my brother?" he said questioningly to his PA who was lingering at his heels.

She looked up. "Yes, the receptionist text me and told me he'd called in."

"Then why the hell didn't he wait?" muttered Mycroft, more to himself than anyone else.

The PA shrugged her shoulders, texting furiously on her blackberry.

"Hmmmm," said Mycroft leaning on his car door. "Who is that woman with him?"

The PA glanced up momentarily. "A friend?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes watching after the two figures as the ambled down the street deep in conversation.

"Hmmmmm, funny thing is my brother doesn't have friends..." he said quietly, closing the car door with a slam. "I'll have to keep my eye on those two..."

Mycroft watched as his brother disappeared around the corner.

The young girl close at his side.

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><p><strong>Next chapter coming soon...<strong>

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much to all who read, reviewed and alerted this story.**

**Thanks to almightyswot, riddle-tom12, jeffhardyluvsme, TheDoctorsMistress & x-Pick'n'Mix-x for reviewing.**

**This chapter is a long one. Hope you don't mind me updating so quick.**

**Anyway hope you enjoy.**

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><p>Rebecca frowned to herself as she followed Sherlock Holmes.<p>

Here she was, sopping wet, almost been killed, following this...stranger along the street.

He walked briskly, his long coat fluttering behind him in the driving rain. All of a sudden and without any warning he stopped abruptly, so much so that Rebecca almost bowled right into him.

The young lawyer frowned darkly and made to yell at the dark-haired man before her, but before she could he had turned and pushed open the door to a small restaurant on their right hand side.

Rebecca would normally have walked right past it with its foggy windows and dreary sign hanging above the door. 'Angelo's' it read in a loopy font.

Rebecca gave a sigh.

Why had she even agreed to come? She didn't really know why she had followed this man?

...Well he had saved her life, she guessed the least she could do was buy him lunch. Yes, lunch, that would be it, where she could politely turn down his offer of hiring her, leave and forget this day had ever happened.

She would decide what to tell her bosses tomorrow. But she bit her lip, not wanting to think about what would happen when she would go into the office and tell them she had lost her first and only client.

Shaking this from her mind she walked into the restaurant and moved over to where Sherlock was chatting to a burly-looking man with a ponytail.

"-No it wasn't me, not this time. Might have been my cousin Pete though, he's always griftin' in that area-" Rebecca heard the ponytailed man mutter.

Sherlock glanced over to her before turning back towards the man. "A table for two please Angelo," he uttered addressing the supposed owner.

Rebecca saw Angelo raise an eyebrow, staring her up and down. "Right you are Sherlock, got a nice table over by the window for you," he said flashing the consulting detective a quick wink but Rebecca caught it and rolled her eyes.

Did this man actually think they were on a date?

She stared at Sherlock as Angelo led them to the table.

As if she would choose someone like Sherlock to go on a date with.

She continued to watch him as Angelo took his coat.

Beneath the heavy black overcoat that Sherlock quickly peeled off himself he wore a rumpled suit complete with a crisp white shirt, open at the collar.

She caught a glimpse of the embroidered design upon the cuff.

Armani.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was gay, yes most definitely gay...

Rebecca smoothed down the front of her skirt and pursed her lips, as Sherlock pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. His fingers danced quickly across the keypad.

"I'm not keeping you from anything am I?" asked Rebecca after a few moments, a sarcastic tone to her voice which she did not attempt to disguise.

Sherlock stared up at her and narrowed his eyes. "No..." he said slowly.

Right at that moment Angelo wandered back over to them.

"Can I get you any drinks?" he asked clapping his hands together and grinning at the pair.

"I'll have a gin and tonic," said Rebecca almost instantly. "Actually make it a double."

Sherlock stared at her, a strange expression upon his face as Angelo gave a smirk. "A double it is then. And for you Sherlock?"

"Just a water for me," he uttered in a deep tone.

The couple fell into silence as Angelo rushed off.

Perhaps this was the moment Rebecca could turn down his offer.

She opened her mouth to speak. "Listen I-"

"You've got a dog," said Sherlock Holmes suddenly, cutting across her sentence.

"W-What?" she asked blinking.

Sherlock leant back in his chair.

"A dog. No...a puppy. Bassett-hound. I'm assuming you haven't had him long."

Rebecca half shook her head. "What?" she repeated. "How did you-?"

"Consulting detective," uttered Sherlock in a bored tone glancing around the restaurant.

Rebecca glanced down at herself self-consciously before cocking her head at the man before her.

"Yes, I've had him about a month now," she said, eyeing Sherlock warily. "His name is Toby."

Sherlock glanced at her with distaste. And was about to open his mouth to speak when Angelo hurried back over popping their drinks down onto the table.

Rebecca thanked him politely as he grinned back at them, clapping his hand against Sherlock's back, causing the detective to flinch at the impact.

"Now what do you two lovebirds want to eat?" muttered Angelo with a wink in Rebecca's direction. "On the house of course."

Rebecca frowned. "No, I insist on paying."

"I won't accept your money Miss, not as long as you're a guest of Sherlock here. Got me off a murder charge this one did," said Angelo smiling. "So what'll it be?"

Rebecca paused for a moment before quickly scanning the specials board.

"Um, I'll have the Vegetable Penne then please," she said glancing at Sherlock who was staring right back.

"And I'll have my usual please Angelo," he said in a low-voice handing the ponytailed-man their unused menus.

Angelo gave him a wink and bustled off as Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

"I...I can't believe he thought we were on a date," she said in a high-pitched voice, giving an uncomfortable laugh. "I mean that would be a bit weird, right?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed but he didn't speak.

Rebecca toyed with the placemat in front of her. "You know...seeing as you're...well not into women..."

"What?" said Sherlock suddenly, his brow furrowing further.

"I mean...oh gosh...I just assumed...never mind..." Rebecca spluttered her face turning ruby red. She quickly reached for her glass downing half of her drink in one go as Sherlock looked on scrutinising her every move.

It was a moment before she composed herself.

"So tell me, how did you know about Toby, my dog?" she asked interestedly.

Sherlock shrugged and pressed his palms flat against the table in front of him.

"Like I said, Consulting-"

"-Detective- yeah I know" said Rebecca with a sigh, you already told me that. "But I want to know how? How did you know? I haven't got paw prints on my back have I?"

She gave a nervous laugh but Sherlock didn't join in. His face was deadly serious.

"Your tights are snagged at your left ankle. They've been pulled by something sharp. Not your fingernails which you have had perfectly manicured ahead of your interview today, no, and besides, you wouldn't hold your tights there when you went to put them on. So it's something else. Something small that would come at you from behind. Perhaps a child, but the snag is much too precise to be from a toddler. So something small at floor level. An animal then. A cat? Perhaps... but going by your keychain you seem much more attached to dogs. So it must a puppy."

Rebecca couldn't help but smile.

Very impressive, she thought to herself.

"And how did you know he was a Bassett-hound?" she said crossing her own arms and biting her lip.

Sherlock was still for a long moment until he quickly reached across the table, his hand making for Rebecca's waist. She frowned immediately and made to slap him away but he plucked something from the side of Rebecca's high-waisted skirt.

He held them out towards Rebecca's face.

"Bassett-Hound hairs," he said simply, before brushing them onto the floor.

Rebecca eyed him uneasily, self-consciously rubbing her skirt, ensuring that no-more pet-hairs lingered there.

"Well clever you," she murmured sarcastically, taking another sip of her drink, before placing it back down onto the table. "But I have to ask...have you ever heard of something called 'personal space?'

Sherlock glared at her in annoyance before looking away, his eyes roving across the other diners dotted around the restaurant. He seemed to be observing them, just as he had Rebecca.

She narrowed her eyes at him just as their food arrived at their table, served by a young waitress.

The pair ate their meal in relative silence, Rebecca attempting to make small talk but this did not seem to interest Sherlock who responded in one word sentences, eventually causing Rebecca to give up.

As she finally placed the last forkful of pasta to her mouth she glanced up at the dark-haired detective before her.

"Sherlock," she said in a slow voice after she had wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I just wanted to say, that although I'm flattered...by your offer of you hiring me as a lawyer-"

"Yes like I said, the cases should not be too difficult for you to write up," he said barely listening to a word she was saying.

Rebecca gave a frown, cocking her head at him. "What do you mean cases?" she uttered, but as Sherlock opened his mouth to give a bored reply Rebecca cut across him. "Yes, you're a consulting detective, I know that, but what is it you do exactly? Do you search for missing persons or something? Or do people hire you to find out if their husbands cheating on them? Is it something like that?"

She was intrigued, she couldn't help it...

Sherlock gave an annoyed sigh. "My work is a little more...complicated than dealing with the mere trivialities of a dull person's life..." he uttered as Rebecca shuffled forwards in her seat.

"So what is it then? Like, murders?" she said with an apprehensive frown.

"Sometimes," replied the detective, almost instantly.

Rebecca gave a nod, her eyes roving across Sherlock's pale face. His eyes met hers and she immediately frowned.

She gave an uncomfortable laugh. "So what are you like a modern day Miss Marple?" she said callously. "You go around the countryside solving murders and drinking tea?"

She didn't even know why she was talking this way. Making fun of the detective sat in front of her...but something about the way he stared at her made her uncomfortable...uneasy...

He obviously dealt with people teasing his profession in this way a lot because he did not laugh, his face remained utterly stony.

"Why go to the countryside when there are killers right here on your doorstep?" he said in a chillingly cold voice, causing Rebecca to give a small gulp.

She stared into his eyes. Right now it was as if the rest of the world was blocked out. As if she was trapped...Just her and this...man...alone... If she was honest...this frightened her...more than she cared to think.

"London is home to some of the most unimaginable criminal mastermind's in the world," began Sherlock, his eyes boring into hers. "They have to whole city at their disposal. You live here, you've seen it yourself...people pass along these streets, thousands of them...but they don't notice anything...but I do...I see the trails in the city...the reasons behind the murders that take place here...normal people don't see because they don't care. Too wrapped up in their own silly little lives to care. But I see it all, fitting together like a puzzle. The clues. The evidence...it's all there. And it is magnificent!"

He took a breath and looked down at the table. It was as if he had poured his heart out to her. Told her things he had never spoken to anyone else.

Rebecca cocked her head at him, and for the first time since she had met him little over an hour ago, this man, this strange man finally showed signs of vulnerability.

But in an instant it was gone. He had composed himself, giving a sniff and leaning back in his chair once again.

"So is it just you then?" she asked toying with the rim of her now empty glass. "You don't have an assistant or anything?"

Sherlock looked up at her boredly before a wrinkled smile appeared on his face. "No, if working alone is good enough for Miss Marple..."

Rebecca grinned, shaking her head as the waiter came to clear the table.

"But you mentioned you work with the police," she said after a minute. "I've never heard of them _hiring_ a detective outside the force before? Why would they pay you to do something like that for them?"

"They don't pay me," muttered Sherlock in a bored tone, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a packet of cigarettes.

Rebecca looked confused. "Then how do you earn money?"

"I have a website, if someone has a problem, they can come to me. I don't require payment for what I do but some tend to be very generous," he placed his cigarettes down upon the table looking annoyed, as if angry that anyone would insult him enough to try and pay him.

Rebecca opened her mouth as if to speak but Sherlock cut across her looking up at her from the corner of his eye. "If you're concerned as to how I can pay you then you needn't worry-"

"No!" said Rebecca immediately raising her hands. "I don't really care about that...I mean...yeah I want to be paid but-"

"Does it intrigue you?" he asked suddenly, an arrogant smirk crossing his lips.

Rebecca scowled. "Does what intrigue me?"

"The mystery of the cases...the murders..." he replied, a glint in his eye.

"Do murders intrigue me?" she scoffed. "No, I think it's sick. All these stories you read about in the papers, it's disgusting the things some people are capable of..."

Sherlock paused for a moment staring at her with cold, calculating eyes, before he shrugged, pulling a cigarette from the packet before him and placing it between his lips.

Rebecca wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Ugh, I can't wait until they ban smoking in restaurants," she uttered with a scowl. "It's a disgusting habit."

But Sherlock continued to light the cigarette anyway, removing it from his mouth and allowing the curling smoke to encircle the air above them.

"Ah you have a problem with it," he said, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. "I'm assuming your father is a smoker..."

Rebecca's frown deepened. "I thought you were a detective not a psychologist," she snapped.

But Sherlock merely shrugged taking a long drag of the stick as Rebecca muttered under her breath. Sherlock managing to catch the words 'inconsiderate' and 'idiot'.

They pair sat in silence until Sherlock had finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in the metal ashtray on the centre of the table as Rebecca huffed in annoyance.

"All done," came a sudden voice at her side. Angelo.

The ponytailed man gave a grin as Sherlock got to his feet.

"Hope you enjoyed your meal Sherlock," he said shaking the detective's hand and handing him his coat. "You're welcome here anytime...your lady friend too."

Rebecca rolled her eyes as she too got to her feet, picking up her briefcase.

"Shall we?" said Sherlock as he held the door open for her.

Rebecca forced a smile as she pushed past him.

For a moment they both lingered on the pavement, Sherlock checking his phone.

Right this was the moment, Rebecca thought to herself, she would finally turn down his offer and leave. But something seemed to tug at her, she did not want to say it...

She gulped, before turning to him. "Sherlock I..."

"Your address?" he asked without even looking up from his phone.

Rebecca frowned. "My what-? Sorry?"

"Your address..." he added bluntly, glancing over to her. "Paisley Street if I'm correct, but I'll need to know the number."

"How did you...? Why-?" she started but Sherlock had already turned away, walking down the street away from her.

Rebecca stopped for a moment watching him before strutting along after him.

"29," she said causing the detective to stop in his tracks. He turned back towards her. He gave her a wrinkled smirk, before turning away once again.

"I'll see you tomorrow then and we can discuss your work further. Nice bumping into you Miss Francis," he uttered in a low voice.

And with that he had strode off down the street without even a backward glance toward Rebecca.

The young lawyer stood there and gaped. Watching after this impossible man. A man that had not only ruined her morning but saved her life and given her a job all in the space of an hour and forty minutes.

She shook her head, standing on the pavement with a large coffee stain across her blouse, knowing that this was definitely not the last she had seen of Sherlock Holmes.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all who reviewed my last chapter. I'm still not sure how many of you are enjoying this...**

**But I just want to say thank you to Bec, ThreeQuartersOfTheWayThere, emily gibson, Che, briongloid fiodoir, riddle-tom12 & x-Pick'n'Mix-x for leaving a review.**

**More to come very soon, but I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>Rebecca Francis had had a terrible morning.<p>

She had woken up with a pounding headache, which she supposed the double gin and tonic from the previous night had something to do with, and rushed to get ready for a meeting with Emmett & Spinkley, the firm of lawyers she worked for.

After sitting through an hour and a half of boring lectures on team growth within the company she had finally sidled into her boss' office and explained to him the circumstances of the previous day.

She had explained how despite her losing one client she had thankfully gained another, but her boss had not been happy, informing her that Emmett & Spinkley were a firm with very high standards and if she couldn't keep in line with them then perhaps she should look for a job elsewhere.

Rebecca had been devastated and pleaded with him to give her another chance, which he finally agreed to, though Rebecca had a sneaking suspicion this had more to do with the low cut blouse she happened to be wearing than her abilities as a lawyer.

Still, at least she hadn't been fired she thought to herself glumly as she sat in her kitchen sipping her fourth cup of tea of the day.

After all the mornings commotion she had all but forgotten the previous day's events.

Her lunch with Sherlock Holmes seeming like a distant memory.

She had walked home later that evening and even then she had been confused as to what had happened.

This man, this consulting detective, had asked her to work for him, to be his lawyer. But his profession seemed a little out of the ordinary...

He solved murders for a living. It wasn't exactly your average 9-5 job was it? Yet still Rebecca had been intrigued.

She had never met anyone like this before, anyone so... odd.

At this moment in time this was the only word she could think of to describe him. She thought that the word 'freak' was a little too harsh.

Now Rebecca sat at her kitchen table having just fed her little puppy Toby. Her boss had, of course, given her some form of punishment for losing such a big client and had given her a huge pile of menial paperwork to do. This now sat next to her and yet Rebecca could not even bare to look at it.

She gave a heavy sigh, resting her head in her hand.

She closed her heavy eyelids just as there came a sharp knock at the door.

Rebecca frowned to herself as her eyes snapped open. She glanced at the clock in the corner which read half past four on the afternoon.

She wasn't expecting anyone and it was a bit late for post...

Sadly Rebecca did not have many friends in London only having moved into the city a month prior so no-one would be calling for her.

The knock came again, louder this time and Toby began to yap excitedly.

"Okay, okay I'm coming!" she muttered more to the little dog than the person on her doorstep.

She quickly moved out into the hallway, smoothing down her long hair, before tugging open the door.

Her eyes widened.

"M-Mr Holmes..." she said in surprise as she took in the figure stood on her front porch.

Sherlock Holmes looked exactly as he had yesterday, his unruly mop of hair hanging over his forehead and his long dark coat draped across his thin form.

The only difference she could see was that he now wore a rumpled, plum-coloured shirt rather than the white one from the previous day.

Behind him she could see a black cab pulling away from the curb.

"Miss Francis," he said with a nod but he didn't quite manage a smile. "I trust you're not busy?"

Rebecca made to give a sarcastic reply but held her tongue. Instead she had other matters she first wanted to discuss.

"Listen Mr Holmes, I actually want to say that although I am glad you would consider me to work for you-"

"Toby I am assuming," uttered Sherlock suddenly cutting across Rebecca as her little puppy ran out of the door and began barking happily.

"Um yeah it is," she said a little distractedly as Sherlock eyed up the dog but made no effort to pet him.

An awkward silence fell between the two for a long moment before eventually Rebecca spoke.

"Er, do you want to come in?" she asked stepping aside as Toby ran back into the house.

Sherlock gave a swift nod and stepped over the threshold as Rebecca moved aside, closing the door behind her.

"Did you want a cup of tea...coffee...?" she asked biting her lip as Sherlock scanned her living room.

She saw his eyes quickly flicker over her flowery sofa, her graduation photos all stacked on the mantelpiece and several pretty evening dresses that were hanging off the back of the door she had yet failed to put into her wardrobe since buying.

He answered after long moment with a polite "No thank you," still lingering by the door. "I was just wondering whether you would like to accompany me this afternoon? I have a case that my contacts at the police have just informed me about...if you're interested that is..."

Rebecca glanced at him and gaped. "W-Well yes I am but-"

"Good, then we can head there now," he said cutting across her. "it's not far from here, we can take a cab.".

"W-What? Now?" uttered Rebecca taking a step back and biting her lip.

She saw Sherlock's eyes look her up and down as if looking if she were dressed appropriately to accompany him.

She had still not changed out of her office clothes since this morning and was wearing a dark purple blouse tucked neatly into a black pencil skirt.

He gave a nod.

"Um, I'm not sure," she said quickly, her eyes darting back and forth. "I have paperwork to do..."

Sherlock's lips twitched. "It will only take an hour. I thought you'd be interested-"

"I am-" blurted Rebecca before she could stop herself.

Sherlock stared at her for a long moment while a blush crept across her features, his eyes boring into hers.

"Good, then you should take a coat. It's rather cold out there," he uttered in a deep voice, a smirk appearing at his lips. "Shall we?"

Before Rebecca even knew what she was doing, she was following the dark-haired detective out into the hallway as he opened the front door with a flourish.

Stepping quickly into a pair of high heels and grasping up her coat, Rebecca ran after him.

She was staring to make a habit of this...

Sherlock walked quickly ahead, causing Rebecca to totter along after him in order to keep up.

When he got to the end of the street where the main road began he held out an arm and hailed a cab.

Within a few short moments a slick black taxi had pulled up on the curb beside them.

Sherlock tugged the door handle and held it open so that Rebecca could step in.

She nodded her thanks as she slipped elegantly into the back seat. After a second Sherlock joined her. He murmured a vague address to the driver as the cab pulled away.

He pulled out his phone and began texting furiously as Rebecca glanced over at him.

"So, what kind of case is it?" she asked a little nervously, but Sherlock did not look up.

"Murder investigation," he murmured, his fingers dancing across buttons. "Or that's what the police seem to believe."

"What and you don't?" she asked frowning.

He glanced over at her giving a smirk as he did so.

"The whole thing is a little too obvious for a murder," he uttered, an odd sort of glint in his eye. "Which is why they needed my opinion."

"Who did? snapped Rebecca angry at his arrogant tone.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," he uttered in a sharp voice. "When he and his team are out of their depth they-"

"But you just said they thought it was murder?" said Rebecca cutting across him.

Sherlock gave her a scowl. He obviously didn't like having to explain things.

"That's what the team came to the conclusion of but Lestrade has asked me to check..."

Rebecca shook her head, her brow furrowed.

"They all should have left by now. I assume forensics will be all finished which leaves me time to do my work," uttered the detective narrowing his eyes and turning back towards his blackberry.

Rebecca stared at him for a second before turning towards the window.

Streets full of tourists and businessmen flew past them in a blur of grey.

Ten minutes later they were speeding past the river Thames.

It had just begun to rain and tiny drops of water made patterns on the surface of the murky river.

"So haven't you got any friends that you can get to go with you?" she asked glancing at the detective who was still hunched over his phone.

He stopped in his texting and stared up at her, a confused expression upon his face.

"It's a crime scene not a trip to the cinema," he said sharply.

Rebecca rolled her eyes.  
>"Yeah I know but-"<p>

"Besides, what's the point in friends?" he continued, his brow furrowed.

Rebecca looked flabbergasted. "What the hell do you mean what's the point in friends?" she asked, her mouth hanging open. "Everyone needs friends... You know, someone who is there for you...someone who cares about you..."

"And caring is important is it?" he said scathingly as the cab pulled up at the side of the road. "Will caring save someone's life...or get you new job or a pay rise? If to have a friend means to care then I'd rather not thank you."

Rebecca stared at him but rather than look angry at his outburst, Rebecca's eyes were wide and sad.  
>For a long moment she looked him up and down before eventually opening her mouth to speak.<p>

"Everyone needs a friend Sherlock," she said in a quiet voice before opening the door and stepping out from the cab leaving the detective alone on the back seat.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


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